


L'arte del tè - Golden flower flavored [OLD VERSION]

by JoSebach



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Pre-Canon, Pre-Undertale, Pretty sad, Sort Of, Spoilers, for once there is comfort, like Father-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoSebach/pseuds/JoSebach
Summary: [contains SPOILERS]Asgore lost his kids.His wife left.He just sipped his tea.---How Asgore started training the determined Undyne
Relationships: Asgore Dreemurr & Alphys, Asgore Dreemurr & Undyne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's grieving, haunted by the past.

It's been some time.

Asgore didn't know how much, the days being dull and empty after that sunset and the vision of the dust nearby the displaced human body, spreading unknown seeds across the garden. It was soon found out those were of the same kind of flowers the human body asked as last wish to be laid on, a kind completely foreign to the Underground. He managed to grow the plants, but, as the first flower blossomed, he had realized the human corpse and his wife disappeared sometime without notice, the coffin still open. Now only flowers were keeping him some sort of company.

He wandered in the castle, waiting for Death to come. The throne room was getting dark, the golden flowers closing, his muscles aching, all indicating it was time to call it a day. He started his trek toward the stairs for the house.  
He eyed the calendar, still hunging on the wall; the numbers couldn't match the many months spent in this utter solitude.  
It's been a mere year, few decades or even centuries?  
He didn't know when everyone left or when he killed those six children for freedom's sake, for the monsterkind's sake.  
He knew he couldn't manage this loneliness any longer, though.  
He missed everyone and everything terribly, and it wasn't rare he asked himself why it did have to happen to him, what he had done to deserve such pain, if there were always solutions available.

In those moments normally he would just go to the kitchen, attempting to prepare any type of pie, ending up destroying it carelessly and having to throw it in the bin. In the far everyday life, seeing such a scene always had caused his sons to laugh heartily, amused by his sorry face at the ruined pastry.  
He shoved off the memory, too exhausted to try to prepare more unwanted organic trash. Yes, he had to call it a day. He approached his bedroom, the hallway haunting silence, lifeless. At least the golden flowers gave colour to the environment, right? Not like the water sausages.

Finally he reached the mattress, the covers cold, bare and pointless. He lay completely on the king-sized bed, the lack of the Queen making his rest colder and shorter. He stared on the ceiling, almost hoping some stars were going to display his future, but there were not. He stretched the arm on his left, but there was not the fur he was looking for comforting him.

...  
He missed her.  
He missed her kisses and caresses. It was always good knowing that, despite all his responsibilities and difficulties, there was someone close ready to listen and understand and provide a solution.  
He missed her stillness. It was strange to see a big man like him being the sensitive one of the pair, and yet she was the support of the king, being his great advisor and closest confident regarding the management of the kingdom and the family. Sometimes this was even a flaw, but he couldn't help but admire her stubbornness.  
He missed all her random facts about snails and her exquisite pies. He and the children had always followed her tutorials about such an art like the one of the pastry-making. Any of hers were delicious and mouth-watering.

He hasn't already found out what's the secret behind those dough: he tried using the same ingredients: that buttercups' pie made by the kids was toxic and kicked him out for some days, but otherwise it would’ve been pretty good, right? He had already tried following perfectly the recipe, going back to Waterfall to find that snail-farm she’d always frequented. The results were a mixture impossible to describe and analyse.  
He had even tried using the same templates she'd preferred. Still nothing.  
What about fire magic? She had always used that in order to warm up the oven. All its insides were burned. It didn't matter the efforts and tries and will, the pastry was too raw or burnt, bitter or of a sickening saccharine.

Maybe... another ingredient he was unaware about?

But the smell coming from the bin reminded his stomach that this wasn't a good idea. No, there was no way he would've been capable to reach her.

Right, her puns weren't the best, some were even preposterous, however he couldn't help but smile and laugh at them. It wasn't for pity. It wasn't for making fun of her, neither. Golly, it wasn't for her desperate desire to hear enjoyment to her words.  
It was just thanks to her perfect voice, completely suitable for any word, they were gold-plated by her mouth.

He realized he was being ridiculous: he missed his wife more than his own children. He tried to laugh the idea off, the mirthless sound bouncing back in his ears, shaking the soul in a suffocating grip, ripping tears from his eyes.

He really missed them and their mirth, innocence and their kind SOULs, always ready to lift even the heaviest of the spirits. Chara and Asriel were the hope of a new world of harmony and forgiveness. But other than throwing his fur out and grieving, there was something else he could have done? Chara's illness couldn't have been helped, Asriel's sorrow neither. Yes, he should had stopped Asriel before taking the sibling's request to heart, but what else? He couldn't fathom how to cope such a loss yet, but he was sure he would've eventually found a way: nothing could've brought them back, life goes on, fate befalls any living being, burying even the flesh of a long-wished dream, ready to grow, ready to die young, under the same Underground, making it almost impossible to reach.

Definitely impossible if being alone, though.  
And without Toriel, he wasn't that sure anymore. She was still alive and she decided to leave in order to distance herself from a broken man like him. That disgust she'd displayed him last was completely his doing, he said with his words that speech in retaliation against humankind, driven by shock.  
He would've wanted to say he was lying. He would've wanted to say those words were necessary to soothe the citizens' growing hatred. He would've wanted to say that was necessary.  
...Yes, it was ridiculous, because he knew those were just poor excuses.

He tensed, realizing tears were flowing. He sat on the corner of the whole bed, of the entire room, where all the hope that was left was gathered. He wept, covering his eyes with the same paws that once'd embraced his children. The same paws that were going to brandish the scarlet trident and claim the last SOUL that was keeping them all away from freedom.

There is no war with no victims.

He stood up, trying to focus on the dark path for the kitchen, walking through the living room, the armchair a stop for the shadows cast from the windows. The chimney was off, a grey swarm danced in the wind. His foot placed mindlessly on the dark floor, it wasn't like he could've stepped on some toys left behind by the kids...

Shadows were casting frames. He's been watched.

He stopped and snapped, flames in his paws ready to extinguish, eyes gazing on the nothingness. Nobody was behind him anymore. Good. He grabbed the kettle and filled it with cold water. The sudden movements spilt some drops, merely watering his exposed fur, but not sparing him from the dirt. Nothing could forgive him. He placed the pot on the fire, preparing himself for the deafening scream of the boiling water.  
He approached the counter, several teacups of different shapes exposed. He smiled at seeing them, a _memento mori_ of who left long ago. He used watching the singular clay forms, remembering how the star cup had always been ready to be filled with boiling water, his brim shining at each sip, or how the yellow flowered one avoided tea and preferred instead a darker, denser and sweeter liquid, or else the white and round one that had favoured coffee.

The too-known yell was starting to increase of volume. He hurried and took the pot away from the heat. He served himself taking a home-made bag of golden flowers. He checked for a cup to use. His eyes fell on the blank deformed teacup, the surface labelling the childish writing "happy bday king dad". He stared at the last cup.  
It was a family tradition of his to exchange teacups as a special family present, so he was the one to prepare the most suitable teacup. That one still had those beaming smiles meant for him.

Dread was crawling on his back. He filled an ordinary cup instead. He sipped the glowing steaming liquid. It burned a lot, but it was a reminder of the consequences he was going to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So good it was supposed to be just a one-shot about Asgore & Undyne with Asgore & Alphys.  
> So bad this is going to be something else. But let's try.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then she appeared.

He felt his eyelids heavier. It was not a surprise. He never welcomed slumber like rest wasn't so pleasant with him. It was a deal signed long ago.  
As his wont, after finishing his tea, he cleaned all the house up, taking away the ash and working on the single stained cup. He liked to think it was a way to distract himself, but actually it was a preparation for welcoming unexpected guests. Not that he wished for them.  
After that he headed to the garden, taking care of the golden flowers in anything, gathering all the bugs that were annoying their sedentary life and letting the sun activate the photosynthesis incredible conundrum. If they were conscious he swore they would laugh at his niceness. If they were his sons, they would be risen as spoiled kids, asking for more comforts. What a terrible parent he was.  
He eyed the few leftovers of the dust, still around that first flower, its odd six petals crowning the pale disk florets. He wished... He didn't know anymore. Not that it mattered.  
He took away the spoiled weed threatening life on the green, mechanical actions moving his body.

When someone killed the blank noise. "Where are YOU, king? Too scared to show up?" the voice said. It was unknown, high-pitched. A child's.

He wished it was a delusion, like always, but that powerful aura was irreplaceable. The end was approaching, the world getting darker. Dread was haunting the lungs each step he heard. It was still exploring the empty building, soon it would be closing in the room.

Silence rested in the air. An impatient grunt filled the void. "Is this hide and seek? Are you kidding me?!" It didn't wait an answer. "Fine! Well, I'll find you eventually!" The source was still upstairs, and it would've had to walk through a long hallway, then the grey hall.

He had enough time to prepare himself. He summoned the red trident, the hand wimpy, his back toward the only access. It's only a kid. Blood was already spotted on the ruined gold.

"I'm not here to waste my time, so you better show up this instant!" It was not too distant.

The grip held stronger. This will be the last.

"Come on! Bring it on!" Louder steps followed. "Are you really that scared of me?"

Not of it. Of himself.

Foot stopped.

He could feel the excited and annoyed source staring at his back, the cape a weak shelter for his unease.

"Yeah, ya really are the heck scared out of me."

He wasn't listening, it didn't matter: that was going to be the last fight, whatever the results, freedom would be found, in both senses. Eyes darkened frowning, chin burying down, the cape followed his fast motion, turning with him. He could feel the brief tremor of the small shape. He pointed his full hand toward the entrance. "If you have any unfinished business, please consider retreating."

"Retreating? Seriously, pal? After chasing you in a stupid children's game? Heck, no! I don't want to hang out with Shyren and losing the bet! And retreat is not in m--"

"A bet? That's what you said?" He snapped the head up, seeing it in the eyes. It was kid, like he could've figured out by the voice, but there was not white sclera, replaced with a sharp yellow, fangs of the same colour edged out of the mouth, the scales of a pale blue.  
This chi-- this young MONSTER was just antagonizing him.  
He realized his misunderstanding, eyes thrust open. His soul was cold like never before, he was shaking. What was he even thinking. What was he daring to do.  
He backed into the garden, the sun bathing him, burning his head, exposing his fear.

She was really pleased of the vision. "Eheh, maybe it will be simpler than I though." She gazed inside his soul, triggering a fight.

They both were really tensed, who for dread and who for excitement. His soul turned green. Startled, he tried to move, but it was impossible to him. He was with the witnessing flowers, planted in position.

She was even more amused at the scene. He must've been really pathetic to her. "I think you should try harder than that." She delivered a punch.

He wanted to take it directly in his face, but he dodged. He couldn't let monsterkind go to ruin. He still had some responsibilities.

Her eyes squinted, the lone nostrils lifted, clear annoyance in the features. "Are you serious, old man? If you wanted to look strong this way, then you really are stupid. But at least --she smiled widely-- you will be a real challenge!" She handed a... wretched quarterstaff? Did she really want to clobber him with that? He felt a bit offended. "Don't look at me like that! --she detected his scepticism-- This is what is going to defeat you. CHAAARGE!" She swung the weapon.

He dodged on his right. He noted she avoided that side, must've been due to her left eye, which was closed all the time.

She let out a frustrated grunt, delivering other blows in retaliation. She was really determined. Her attacks were predictable, though, and she was just missing the target. She gasped for air, hands in her knees, back arched. Sweat was covering the brow, irritating the left eye, which was squinting. Drops fell on the grass, the pressed flowers weren't screaming for pain.

He wasn't that exhausted and felt really bad for the kid. However, before he could've talked to her, she fled, running away from the room. He forgot he could move again until it was too late.

* * *

Darkness cursed him once again, but the lack of sleep was being unbearable to his body. He was no more ageing but he felt many centuries older. He didn't know if he reached the mattress or if he let himself go on the floor. Not that he cared at all, not that anyone was going to question him.

But there she was. The whiteness of her fur was blinding him among this blackness. He smiled at seeing her: she was the only one who could've helped him--  
That frown said otherwise. He was such a fool to believe such a clear dream.

"Asgore Dreemurr."

Her lips weren't moving an inch, her look was enough. That disappointment was going to kill him soon or later.

"I was already disgusted of you, being capable of killing an innocent child for your folly. I was so foolish wishing to have children with you. If I'd known before, I would've reconsidered my position as mother.  
"But then you wanted to rip a poor monster's soul, no less. Ahahah..." The pun-laugh was improper to the moment, her tears stabbing him, like deadly acid rain on the then sterile soil.

"I didn'--"

"A child, a killing which could've been avoidable, pointless. A damage to our own people. --she continued-- If you are like this...

"YOU WOULD'VE EVEN KILLED OUR CHILDREN IF IT HAD BEEN FOR THEIR SOULS."

"Noooo!" Dark and light again, sweat covered the fur, the fibres of the carpet stinging his skin. He felt almost like his face was about to melt by the commotion. Stupid he was to even believe it, to even try to question her, an image of his mind.

No, he couldn't afford killing another person. He had to ask help.  
He stood up, legs aching at his broken weight.  
He rested but he was not rested, it was just pointless pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated in one day. Sono commossa. But don't think this is going to last, who know when I'm going to update next. I know what's going to happen, but I'm not sure which POV to choose (always in third person).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And she left.

It was time to act.  
He couldn't wait for the last human to reach the castle, there was no telling when this was going to happen, but time was passing, avoiding his severed body. He first thought the 6th SOUL had been rescued not that long ago, maybe a couple of years. And yet, that encounter made him realise he couldn't take it any longer, he was losing his mind, almost killing a young monster in sight, no kidding.  
If they needed a last SOUL, they had to invent something else; so he offered an employment as royal scientist to whoever was capable to create a SOUL. Then they would've developed one similar if not identical to a human's somehow.  
He spread the word. There was nothing else to do other than waiting. And taking care of the garden.

Before going downstairs, he felt the chest was tight. His stomach was screaming, starving, asking anything for nourishment. Then he thought of all his miserable plates. And he declined having a meal. He told himself it was just the stress. He climbed down the stairs and reached the golden area.

The sun peered in the ceiling cracks in no time, passing through the barrier. He continued gardening for all the early morning. Actually there was nothing to do, but he continued checking if the warm soil was enough watered and searched of any seed to plant. Then he sat down, pensive, trying to figure out what else he was supposed to do now, like designing the prize for who was going to free monsterkind... No, he couldn't fret, not yet, not when he wasn't even sure of the success of his plan.   
He focused on the flowers. Some of them managed to recover from the pressure they had been exposed the day before. Such resilient living beings, so resilient he wasn't sure they were even alive. He just wished one day to be one of those lone golden flowers, concerned only of the allowance of light and water, letting the breeze cuddling the petals.   
He watched the 6-petals plant, inflexible despite being covered in a corpse. Dread was stabbing him as the memories resurfaced. Tears served themselves on the lawn, burying the dust on its roots.

"The king crying like a toddler? Heck, are you that scared?"

He snapped to the familiar voice, the frame clearer now. The girl from yesterday was a teenager fish-like monster, the blue skin denying any human nature. Golly, thinking he had been about to kill her made him sick. "Child, please--"

"Please what? Are you actually asking for mercy?"

"I'm begging you, turn away? You must've been scared yesterday--"

Sweat got stuck by the thick brows, probably because of Hotland's high temperature or maybe panic to the provocation. "I just left because the battle was getting kind of boring, so I decided it was time to make things more interesting."

"Please, consider retreat."

"Retreat?! I'm not a weeny like you!" her eye glowed, sticking him on the ground, she jumped, delivering a punch.

He moved aside, clumsily hindering her knee's pace with the forgotten arm.

She was face-planted on the garden. Quite literally.

He couldn't help but laugh at the pun, awakening her nerves further.

She stood up, the muscles tense, producing a revengeful growl, unlikely for a sea creature like her features suggested her to be. It was no good, indeed. "How dare you to laugh, you--"

"I'm sorry for making you trip, but please, just listen to me."

"I don't give a fucking damn--"

"Language, child." Who educated this kid?

Her yellow fangs severed the air. "Shut the fuck--"

"You're clearly wasting your time here--"

"That's where you're wrong." she grinned.

"Then your goal all along was spending time making a fool out of yourself?" He found it too hard to believe.

She rose her hands and then let them collapse on her sides, incredulous. "Seriously?! Have you even been listening to me yesterday?! I'm here to defeat you!"

"For a mere bet?" He questioned.

"Whose price is being acknowledged as the strongest monster? --the smile was devilish-- Yes and I'm ready to prove it."

He sighed, almost missing the blade she swung to him. "Listen, child--"

"It's Undyne." she spat venom.

"Alright, Undyne. Do you really want to defeat me?"

"So you're actually listen--"

"Then I suggest you to improve your skills, or else there is no way you can succeed."

"You can't take me seriously, right? --she approached, eyes disgusted-- Being young doesn't make one weak, old man!" she yelled him. The man who has seen before his eyes what the youngest were actually capable of, from those kids denying their own death to his son obliging the sibling's last wishes.

No, certainly he was way too aware of this fact. He could see she too was quite powerful, being capable of trapping a boss monster like himself in place. However she was a lost girl, solitude conferring her obstinacy and lack of a true goal. She needed a guidance. "I'm sorry, you misunderst--"

"You know what? I'm done listening to you!" she drew the ruined blade from the side. "Gimme that fucking crown already, so we can call it a day!"

But he dodged.

She burned of rage. And prepared for another strike.

"You're just draining your power, let me teach you--" He arched his back.

She didn't wasted time in making another run-up, sweat dripping behind her neck.

They went on like this for quite some time, the sun beyond their heads. Her hair was stuck on the scaled skin, her webbed hands were in clear pain for the fatigue on the knees, the left eyelid writhing for irritation due to some dirt left or the constant perspiration, the broken blade lost somewhere. She stared to the ground.

The spell was dissolved. He was free. He approached, lending a hand. "I'm sorry for all this fuss, we can discuss this over a cup of tea."

She glared at the genuine concerned eyes. Wrath filled her whole. "Are you stupid or what? Why don't you fight back." she whispered, standing on the pained legs by herself.

Before he could answer, she fled.

He could've stopped her, but he feared deep down she would've returned the next day. So he let her go, hoping this was just an illusion.


	4. Chapter 4

His fear came true. The next day she was back, another one of those tools made out of junk barely resembling some weapon in her scabbard, ready to swing it aimlessly and restlessly, muscles  fuelled by pure confidence. He just pushed himself to dodge the blows. After some indefinite hours she gave up, frustrated and ashamed to the spine. The next day she was back.

And the next day she was back, again.

It was the fifth time she returned for the mere sake of fighting. He could feel his muscles aching and on edge, no more accustomed to the constant dodges. He already didn't manage to gather some rest in the night, but this additional pressure was too much, making it impossible to live even the fewest moments of peace. He was losing his mind even more, considering he was supposed to be prepared against a human, not a fish-monster, forcing him not to fight back. What a waste of time and energies.

Maybe that was her plan: getting him worn out in order to gain victory, winning a stupidly pointless bet and a foolishly dangerous title.

He tried several times to nicely reason with her to give up, telling her that this charade was a waste of time for both of them, making her realize just how foolish her goal was, but none of that was effective, rather more like damaging, since she took the politeness as insulting pity or a weakness or both.

He only wanted her to go away, though. Maybe he could just follow her same plan: perhaps antagonizing her would pester her, her retaliations too exhausting to the point she was no longer able to escape again. And then... then what? Was there actually a way to stop her? Despite the always disappointing ending defeated-less, she was not going to let her determination slip. He could tell by the glance. No, she was not going to surrender for the world. But was there something he could offer her instead of his crown?

He wasn't stranger to such determination, however the only solution he found to prevent any return was by splitting blood. No, he wasn't going to resolve to such manners.

He hoped just asking her at the right time was enough. He wasn't going to miss the chance.

The customary ruined soles were walking past the labelled path, heading straight to the stairs. She must've acknowledged by now it wasn't necessary checking back all the other rooms since he was always in the garden taking care of the flowers. She won't take long before appearing on the threshold.

He grimaced, swallowing all his else ifs down, mustering all his resolve. He pretended to be ready. He wasn't ready, though, but he had to.

Steps stopped, her eye piercing on his back.

He tried not to flinch. He turned around, finding himself facing an amused and satisfied expression.

"This is--"

"Howdy, it's nice to sea you."

Her eye widened, the eyebrows keeping it down, lips rose showing her fangs, veins pulsing frozen glass splinters grasped coldly the not-so-wretched weapon. She swallowed down the rage and then she smiled. "So you resort to coward methods. Well, for a wimpy such like you I ain't surprised, but keep in mind that trying to go under my skin is not going to save ya, ya know."

"No, no... -he fidgeted, he was regretting this- I'm not being a koi with you, honest!" Despite the nervousness, or maybe because of it, he allowed the snort shout aloud in the room, bouncing lonely on the walls. The fact he was laughing at his own terrible jokes just made him feel more miserable.

"Like I said, yours is a waste of time." she swung.

He backed. "I know this won't change a fin. Who will be the sole survivor, I wonder."

She got faster by the second, her attacks more instinctual right when she was sort of following a scheme. "Seriously though, I already told you you have to try harder than that!" She lunged.

He dodged the blow. She was a poor liar. "Your patience is wearing fin. You need to clam down, child." He could actually see her short temper was ready to disappear.

"Stop calling me that!" She lunged on the now empty spot. Rage made her forget to summon the green magic.

"Right, sorry, you must be Untrying, was it?"

Her eye, sweat and posture showed she was transforming in a fury. "Are you really that stupid on antagonizing me?!"

He slightly flinched. He closed his fits, avoiding the question. "Are you really that stupid to reply to me instead of using your magic and striking me? You've just missed your opportunaty." The unwanted pun provoked another loud snort.

She didn't like that, he could tell, the grip on the long pole murderous, fangs thirsty of dust, her eye haunting his closed by unstoppable mirth.

He barely missed her shot, then realized he couldn't move. When did she summon her magic? When did she actually listen to him? Wait, she did?!

"I'm SICK of your shitty jokes and bullshit. Prepare to die!" she charged, toward his right.

He wasn't expecting her to go to the blind side, but he was rather more impressed of how polished and effective the tool looked. He avoided the metal pole, but it brushed against few hair. "You're using a more sofishticated weapon, which is good, whale I'm sure you cod dolphinitely do betta than this."

Her heavy breaths let sweat fall on the grass. She was still but tense, muscles getting tighter, fangs burying in her own flesh, the gaze drenched in hate. She just attacked.

And he dodged with all his might, her fits faster than ever. "You're getting too snapper." He tried again.

The blows got faster.

"Any fin is possible, just don’t trout yourself."

The swings got unfair.

He was having a hard time avoiding them, but he did it nonetheless. "You're drying yourself. Water boat ending this pacifishcally?"

She didn't respond. She didn't care. The hits paused for a moment, a few steps apart from him, her sight planted on the ground, mustering all her wrath and resolve on the pole that was about to snap.

He knew he was going to get dunked on. He realized that any second now. He pushed her way too much to the edge.

Her boots pushed the weeds instantly, jumping from the spot, ready to strike the last blow, the left brow pressing on the empty wounded socket. She was yelling with all the breath she had left.

But the sound never reached his ears, her movements slowing down with his. The instant was milking in his mind, the brain too fast at processing the events going in motion considering the possible options.

If he laid hands on the trident, she'd die.

Avoiding her attack wasn't going to stop her determination.

Then... He almost hesitated, barely letting her hit his throat fatally. No, if he died now, the whole monster kind would be doomed.

She cleaved the air, the momentum throwing her on the side, now lying on the grass, the pole far away from the battle camp.

He prepared himself for a punch or a kick, but it didn't happened.

She didn't rise up. The wind howled to her, the flowers caressed her, but she didn't move an inch.

He was terrified she was about to turn to dust, despite never landing a hit on her. He approached, realizing the spell was over making him even more frightened. But then he heard her sobs.

The small frame shook vicariously, the pressure too much to stop the loud weeping from flowing.

He recognised that pain, there was no mistake. He remembered those sleepless nights he had spent comforting the new-welcomed human, tormented by their unknown fears, in the only way that apparently worked on them: hugging.

She got tensed at the embrace, finding it impossible to exchange, too occupied in drying her eyes. "Why..." Sobs surfaced on her throat, stealing the words.

He stayed silent, focusing on the difficult sentences.

"W-why sparing m-me... Is it pity?"

He rocked back and forth, denying at the question. "No, small one, I would'v-"

"Then why..." her weak voiced stopped his, his big ear close to her lips. "It's because I'm young? I'm weak and not worthy?"

He smiled sadly. "Never. The fact is there was no motive to fight."

"Not even for defending yourself?" her voice was astonished.

"You've seen yourself dodging is enough. In fights you can't just, well... fight. It's something more complex." The embrace loosen. "If you'd just asked I would've taught you how to defeat me."

Her eye stared on the grass, disappointed of herself. "So... what now?"

"Well, that's your choice, but know that the suggestion is still up."

For an instant the glance enlightened of happiness, then it got puzzled. "Wait... you really wanna teach me how to win you?"

"Yes, that's what I said."

The eye focused on the matter, meditating deeply on his words. Her face was neutral, unreadable to him. "Fair enough."

The affirmation surprised the king that smiled widely. "So I'll train you, this is ofishal."

She stared blankly, fed of puns.

He felt the awkward silence dirtying him. "Eheh, sorry, my attempt at a joke was a pile of carp."

"Could you stop that?!" This time, her voice was not that threatening, though.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry. We can discuss this over a cup of tea, shall we?"

She just followed the king, at some point speeding up her pace. "By the way --she asked while climbing the stairs-- why you keep those shitty golden flowers instead of the echo ones? They are funny for pranks!"

He didn't want to hear his miserable voice, he would've said, but refrained from doing it. "I just prefer them, and a tea of their flavour is excellent."

"Don't tell me you'll teach me how to make tea..."

"Well, I can eventually."

"And this is supposed to be training? I'm out!" but the voice betrayed the lie.

And he was glad there was a change in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NONE of the puns are mine. But searching for them was the most hilarious thing I've done recently.  
> I don't like the ending, but whatever.  
> Review if you like.


	5. Communication: this work is under reboot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This work is under reboot.

As the chapter title hints, this work is under renovements. The new version can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432497). Have a happy new year.


End file.
